


Another Time, Another Place

by binarystarkillers



Series: TLW Week 2020 [2]
Category: The Long Walk - Richard Bachman
Genre: ART BAKER DESERVED BETTER, Gen, I Made Myself Cry, pure boys, pure friendship, tlw week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binarystarkillers/pseuds/binarystarkillers
Summary: “You know, you find yourself thinking all sorts of weird shit on the road.”
Relationships: Ray Garraty & Art Baker
Series: TLW Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726636
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Another Time, Another Place

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 02: favourite friendship/dynamic.
> 
> Contrary to popular belief, I can write a TLW fic without Peter McVries.

“You know, you find yourself thinking all sorts of weird shit on the road.”

“Hmmm?”

Baker’s face was gaunt, his skin chalk-white and the life pouring out of him in a sticky red stream. Garraty had been shuffling along in a sort of half-sleep, his mind only connected faintly to his bloody, aching feet, but he’d looked up at the other boy’s voice.

“I mean,” Baker coughed, and a few specks of blood landed on the pavement, “we’re a pretty odd group, ‘s all.”

“I guess,” said Garraty. The harsh Maine sun was too bright for his sleepy eyes, and it made his head ache as he squinted down at his shoes.

“Well, there’s just all sorts of folks. There’s southerners, northerners, jocks, nerds, McVries… all sorts. From all walks of life. Heh.”

Baker stumbled and Garraty grabbed him, staggering slightly under the added weight. They shambled along in a drunken four-legged dance for a few minutes, until Baker let go of him, standing straight once more. Garraty could feel the eyes of the soldiers on him, carefully watching to see if Baker would lose his footing once more, becoming another fly to swat. Maybe they’d even get Garraty, if the timing was right; audiences always loved when Walkers went down together. Maybe they’d even make front page news, Garraty thought as he watched Baker wipe his sleeve against his nose, leaving another smear of blood against his red and white shirt.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Garraty replied, uncomfortable. Baker was thanking him for saving his life, but he wasn’t sure he had at all; maybe he’d just prolonged his death sentence for another couple of hours, or minutes. Baker was going to die, they all knew it. There was no way he’d make it to the end. Maybe it would have been kinder to let his body hit the pavement, for him to lose his life while he still had it, before he turned into a trembling husk of a man. 

_'So, why didn’t you?'_ a voice that sounded a lot like Stebbins asked, and the answer came to Garraty with a surprising ease. _Because he’s my friend. Because I don’t want to lose him._

The two boys walked in a companionable silence for a few hours, and Garraty had nearly fallen asleep again by the time Baker spoke. 

“Do you think we’d be friends?”

“What?” Garraty asked, suddenly very afraid by the tense Baker had used. Baker had seemed normal the last time they’d spoken, and Garraty suddenly found himself cursing his lack of knowledge on heat stroke and blood loss.

“Don’t worry, I’m not on the bus to crazytown yet.” Baker chuckled, and a thin trickle of blood slid into his mouth. “I just meant… y’know what I said earlier? About all sorts being on this walk?”

“Sure, I do.”

“Do you think we’d be friends if we met outside of the Walk, too?”

Garraty lifted his head, ignoring the snap in his neck as he glanced up at his friend. 

“I…”

Baker shrugged. “I just mean, what would happen if we all met somewhere else? All of us. The Musketeers in school. Do you think we’d be friends?”

“Well, I think Parker would have given a couple of bloody noses by now if there weren’t rules keeping him in place. Hopefully one of them would be Barkovitch.”

Baker smiled.

“Imagine Stebbins trying to give a presentation in class,” he continued, and Baker laughed for the first time since the bleeding had started. “He’d just confuse the teacher into giving him an A.”

“Olson would’ve tried to fight Abraham for no reason.”

“Harkness would try to correct the English teachers.”

Garraty felt better than he had in hours as the two of them burst into laughter, leaning forward and panting a little with the effort it took. As their laughter tapered off, Baker stumbled again, and Garraty reflexively wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his good mood dying rapidly.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Baker said, his shoulders drawn together and trembling with exhaustion. His voice sounded wrecked, and Garraty tightened his grip around him.

“Fuck, Art,” he sighed. The truth was that no, they wouldn’t be friends. If they had met before the Walk began, they might have had one civil conversation and then gone their separate ways, each never sparing a second thought to the other. They’d go back to their parallel lives, and their worn-out roles. 

But looking into the tired eyes of his dying friend, Garraty couldn’t bring himself to say any of it. “Of course we would be.”

Art smiled, and weariness seemed to ooze out of him. “Thanks,” he murmured, and Garraty wasn’t sure if it was for the words, or the lie.

“I’m going to die, Ray,” he whispered, and tears pricked at the back of Garraty’s throat. 

“I know.”

“You know what I’m scared of?”

“What?”

Baker took a shuddering breath, and Garraty could feel it against his side. “I’m scared I’ll end up like Hank. Or Scramm. I don’t wanna die, Ray, but I don’t want to go crazy.”

“You won’t,” said Garraty, and he bit back tears. It seemed like his heart was heavy, and it hurt more than anything else he’d ever experienced, muscle cramps and wrecked feet paling in consideration to the squeezing sensation in his chest. “You won’t.”

Baker closed his eyes, and his head drooped forward, trailing a slim path of blood behind them that marked the steps a living boy had once walked.

“Another time, another place,” Garraty said, and Baker laid his head on his friend’s shoulder. “Walk a little longer, Art.”

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just... really love Art Baker. He was the most wholesome, kind kid on the Walk, and he deserved better than what he got.
> 
> My Tumblr is binarystarkillers!


End file.
